


Orange Crush

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Androgynous!Ichigo, Drag Queen!Ichigo, M/M, This was supposed to be for the color fill..., Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: Ichigo's been missing for roughly a year. On an unrelated note, a new bar opens across the street from the shouten at roughly the same time. Weird, huh?





	Orange Crush

Club Fifteen opened up across the street from the shop about a year ago, a monstrosity of orange neon and gold. Kisuke hadn’t paid it much attention at the time— the club had opened right around the same time it became clear that Ichigo was _ missing, _ not just taking a few days for himself, after all, and the search for his student had taken priority over some bar that Kisuke wasn’t going to ever step foot in. He makes better liquor in his labs than he ever could be served in some dive, anyway.

 

It’s in his thoughts now, though, but only because there’s an… incident, unfolding right before one of his security cameras.

 

He supposes it was inevitable that yakuza would come knocking on the door of that little bar. They used to try it with Kisuke, too, before he’d shown them why that might be a bad idea. Still, he isn’t expecting the scuffle that fell out onto the street, nor does he expect the sort of people he sees fall out of that bar with it.

 

Drag queens. There’s no mistaking the makeup-softened square jaws that clench as they raise long-nailed fists to fight, taking a perfect offensive stance in eight-inch, glitter-encrusted platform heels.

 

Kisuke watches the fight almost idly on the screen in his lab, huffing a quiet laugh as one of the queen lands a punch square in the jaw of the biggest of the yakuza, laying him out on the concrete just like that.

 

The fight ends pretty quickly after that, and the queens file back inside, leaving the yakuza bloody and groaning in the dirt.

 

Kisuke goes back to his work.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The queens come into the shop pretty regularly, dressed down in street clothes and the barest touches of makeup to pick up snacks and cigarettes after their noon wake-up call. Kisuke even starts selling breakfast bentos because of them, which gets him more than a few winks and cheeky comments. He gives as good as he gets, too, which the girls only seem to appreciate more, and has led to a few more conversations than Kisuke used to allow between himself and his customers. No matter how strange he tries to make himself out to be, the girls don’t seem to mind. No, not at all— instead, they just tell him how much they wished they had his hair and ask after his workout regime.

 

Yoruichi thinks it’s hilarious, and even shows up a few times in human form to talk to the queens herself. They think she’s absolutely _ darling— _ yes, they use that word specifically— and trade makeup tips over tea that Yoruichi so generously asks Tessai to brew for them all.

 

(Kisuke finds body glitter on his furniture for weeks afterward, but Yoruichi assures him that it’s worth it.)

 

Kisuke lets her have her fun, and doesn’t mind the occasional reprieve from worrying about Ichigo’s disappearance in favor of gossip about who’s sleeping with who and who managed to snag a _ real _ Dolce and Gabbana dress from the consignment shop around the corner.

 

“Of course,” Amaterasu adds almost disdainfully on the subject of Dolce and Gabbana. “Even the Italian designers don’t have anything on Uryuu-kun’s work. Where Vain found him, I can’t begin to guess.”

 

“Oh, his designs are to  _ die  _ for,” Venus agrees in, her voice lilting and her bottle blonde ponytail bouncing as she nods. “Vain refuses to wear anything that doesn’t have his mark on it, and I understand _ completely.” _

 

“Uryuu?” Kisuke asks, blinking. “You mean, Ishida Uryuu?”

 

Four pairs of eyes find him at once.

 

“You know Uryuu-kun?” Rinko asks, arching a single, perfectly-plucked eyebrow in his direction. She’s been begging to dress him for months, now, so he sort of understands, if all they know about Ishida is his fashion.

 

Well, Kisuke’s allowed to have his fun, too.

 

“Of course,” he says. “He comes by to visit, sometimes. Lovely boy— a little serious, but… he knows his craft.”

 

His craft being ‘slinging pointy bolts of energy at monsters.’ Yes, he’s very good at that. Not an expert, but he’s getting there.

 

“You should come by next Wednesday, then,” Missus says, puffing on the cigarette dangling from her dainty fingers. “Mr. Vain only performs once or twice a month— he’s usually too busy making sure everything runs smoothly at our balls— but he always makes sure to have a new Ishida design for each performance. If you like Ishida’s daywear, you’ll _ love  _ his drag designs.”

 

Ishida hadn’t said anything about going professional in the fashion world… but then, designing for drag queens for extra money in his senior year of high school probably doesn’t count as professional, and anyway, they don’t exactly talk about personal things, when the Quincy stops by.

 

No, the closest he’d gotten to that sort of conversation was with Ichigo, and now with the queens.

 

… Kisuke realizes that sounds a little pathetic.

 

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, tugging on the brim of his hat.

 

“You really should come,” Venus says, smacking his hand away from his hate with her favorite fan before he can hide his eyes. “It’ll be fun! All you need is a pair of tight jeans and the right shoes…”

 

“You’re only saying that because you want to see my ass, Amaterasu-chan,” Kisuke says, smirking.

 

She doesn’t twitch.

 

“Well, that would just be a bonus, wouldn’t it?” she gives him a pretty smile. “Next Wednesday, Urahara-san, alright?”

 

The others all give him identical, wide-eyed looks that he _ knows  _ they learned from Yoruichi, he feels it in his bones— and he sighs.

 

“Of course, Amaterasu-chan,” he says. “If you insist.”

 

“Great!” She claps her hands together. “How about we go shopping on Monday and find you something to wear? It’ll be a nice day out.”

 

“Wait, _ what?” _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Kisuke drew the line at leather pants, but that doesn’t mean that Amaterasu didn’t manage to find the tightest pair of denim jeans that have ever been made for Kisuke’s waistline. His pelvis feel vacuum-packed— and yes, it’s exactly as uncomfortable as it sounds— and his midriff gets inexplicably cold every time he move his shoulders even the slightest bit to reach for his drink.

 

He still has his hat, at least. Amaterasu couldn’t make him budge on that one.

 

[Club Fifteen is loud with conversation and thumping dance music. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ka01Y_pYgM)The air is filled with smoke of all kinds, and the whole place is lit up with colorful, flashing strobe lights that reflect off of metallic wallpaper and the outfits of about half the guests. At ten o’clock on the dot, however, it all goes off, and the stage lights up as a queen in a skintight black gown and cat ears lopes onto the stage, microphone in hand.

 

“Good evening, ladies,” she says, fluttering three inch long fake eyelashes at them all. “Neko-chan is happy to see all these happy faces. Are you ready to see some real entertainment?”

 

The crowd cheers.

 

“You’re the guy that owns the shop across the street, right? The guy that Ichigo was friends with?”

 

Kisuke looks over at his student’s name and sees a young man with dark hair and a placid, false smile on his face.

 

“Kojima-kun,” he greets, feeling his cheeks heat. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Oh, just here to see the show.” The boy faces forward again. “I’m friends with the owner, so I try to come whenever he performs.”

 

“... You’re referring to Vain?”

 

“Mr. Vain, yeah— he always comes on at midnight, so all the other queens can get their fill.” Kojima pauses. “Why are you here?”

 

“Ah, Amaterasu-chan invited me.”

 

Kojima smiles at the name.

 

“She’s competing tonight, too,” he says. “She does lip-syncs.”

 

“Competing?”

 

“Oh, yeah. It’s all about those trophies—”

 

“Our first category tonight is Lip-Syncing!” Neko-chan trills from the stage. “And the lovely lady to start us off is none other than the ever-glowing Amaterasu!” Another cheer shakes the foundations of the club as Amaterasu steps on stage, wearing a bright yellow poodle skirt that just barely covers her ass and a white button-down that she’s knotted up into something resembling a crop top. Her normally short, dark hair is hidden under a giant, curly orange wig, tied up with a strip of white fabric to match the little ascot knotted around her throat.

 

[Music begins to filter from the speakers set up all around the club,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioHSFN4YrbQ) and Amaterasu bounces, kicking up red heels as red-painted lips mouth along to the words.She struts back and forth across the stage, shaking her hips and making exaggerated faces at the crowd, who loves it.

 

It’s not really Kisuke’s thing, honestly, but it is a fascinating thing to watch. He can see the appeal.

 

The song ends, and everyone surrounding Kisuke screams. Amaterasu gives a little curtsy, mouth curved with pleasure as she bats her eyelashes at the crowd, the picture of false modesty as she flaps her hands at the crowd before stepping of stage, skipping over to Kisuke.

 

“What’cha think?” she asks brightly.

 

“You were amazing, Amaterasu-chan,” Kisuke promises.

 

“Really, Ama-chan,” Mizuiro agrees, pushing up onto tiptoes to brush a kiss against her sculpted cheek. “I already know you’ve blown the rest out of the water.”

 

Amaterasu giggles, tangling their fingers together.

 

“The next one’s gonna be good,” she says. “Venus has been practicing for months, and _ she  _ used Lady Gaga, too.”

 

“Well,” Kisuke says, draining his drink. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it. Drinks, anyone?”

 

Mizuiro’s lip curls.

 

“I’ll get them,” he says, pulling away from Amaterasu. “They don’t charge me here.”

 

Kisuke arches an eyebrow at the boy’s retreating back but keeps quiet, turning to Amaterasu instead.

 

“He’s special,” she says, smiling. “Mr. Vain likes him.”

 

“Will I get to meet them this evening?” Kisuke asks. “I don’t think they’ve ever come into my shop with you.”

 

“Oh, you will,” Amaterasu says. “If they want you to.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


The results of the competitions are revealed by Mr. Vain themselves after they perform, according to Kojima. By this point, Kisuke’s gotten used to the noise and the flash, having downed more than a few brightly-colored drinks to combat the growing anxiety in his stomach of too many people, too small of a space. He’s pleasantly buzzed, now, entranced by the clothes and the music and the smoke that drifts in gentle patterns overhead, glowing pleasantly under flashes of red, blue, green, and purple.

 

Everything is almost perfect, and then, Venus, who’d decided to attach herself to his arm the same way Amaterasu had attached herself to Mizuiro, squeezes his bicep, digging violet stiletto nails into his skin.

 

“Here they come!” she squeaks into his ear excitedly. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

 

The stage goes dark and a figure steps onto the stage. The club is utterly silent save for the click of their heels on the wooden floor. Smoke pours out of the fog machines on stage, blue light turning the figure into a silhouette as they step to the front of the stage.

 

“You know me,” Mr. Vain says, accent practiced and steady as they raise their hands over their head. “You all know me. Who am I?”

 

The crowd answers in a single, drunken voice.

 

_ “Mr. Vain.” _

 

[The synthesizer kicks in,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfWb_60lhw0) and a moment later, the stage is lit up fully, revealing a gorgeous orangette wearing a blue spandex one-piece under a long, glittery black coat that collects right at the base of the lower back in a bustle before falling to the ground, trailing behind them like a wedding train as they begin to dance.

 

Their hair is long enough to reach their waist, and flips as they move from side to side across the stage, pulling insane poses one after another in rapid succession. Voguing, Kisuke thinks it’s called— at least, that’s what Venus hisses in his ear as they watch.

 

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful, Kisuke thinks idly as they drop their outer layer to drop to the floor in a full split. Orange hair like that, though, is that a wig? Because that sort of orange hair— surely he would have noticed another person with orange hair wandering around Karakura, surely. Orange hair is strange, orange hair is—

 

It hits him, very suddenly, that Mr. Vain is Ichigo.

 

Well, that’s a bit annoying, he thinks a little dazedly as he watches Ichigo strut, taking advantage of long limbs and a slender figure to bend himself into what must be increasingly uncomfortable positions. He’d been looking all over Japan for his student, had broadened his search to China and Malaysia, even, and here he is, across the street from Kisuke’s shop.

 

“They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?” Amaterasu shouts excitedly, her eyes never leaving the stage.

 

“Um.”

 

“He’s cockstruck,” Venus says loudly, giving Kisuke a wide, pink-lipped grin. “Absolutely  _ speechless.” _

 

Well, she’s right about that, at least. Kisuke can’t find any words for the weird mess of feelings in his gut right now— and yes, if he’s honest with himself, he is a little attracted to the form on stage. Kisuke didn’t know Ichigo could move like that. He didn’t know how good he looked with a face full of makeup and a self-satisfied smirk on his face, either. That feeling, however, is minor compared to the overwhelming sense of pride (at Ichigo’s cleverness to hide in plain sight), anger (at his student for making him worry), and most importantly, confusion. Kisuke’s usually pretty good at spotting things like this. How did he miss it? Is this a recent development? When did—

 

The performance ends, and the stage brightens with plain white light.

 

“And now,” Ichigo drawls, chin held high as Neko-chan hurries to lift his coat from the floor and drape it over his shoulders. “The winners of tonight’s ball…”

  
  


*.*

  
  


It takes exactly four seconds after Ichigo announces the winners (Amaterasu wins first in the lipsync, but Venus beats her in realness, so it all evens out) for someone to pull Kisuke aside and quietly inform him that Mr. Vain would like a private audience.

 

Well, it’s not like Kisuke’s going to say no, is he?

 

He’s led by the hand upstairs, away from the crush of people, and slowly, one knot in his stomach untangles, only to reform as he realizes he has no idea what he’s going to say. He wasn’t prepared for the ‘Ichigo’s been in Karakura all along doing drag’ scenario. He was expecting something a little more… _ backpacking across the country,  _ really.

 

He’s led into a rather plain dressing room to wait for Ichigo, who can be heard washing his face just beyond what Kisuke assumes is the bathroom door. He plucks at his plain white t-shirt awkwardly, suddenly wishing he’d fought Amaterasu harder and worn his usual clothes out. He feels bare, vulnerable, unarmed and underdressed and waiting for something he’s not really ready for.

 

He jumps when the door creaks open and Ichigo, sans makeup and spandex and instead wrapped in a fluffy blue bathrobe steps out of the bathroom, long hair pulled up into high bun at the top of his head.

 

“Hello, Kurosaki-san.”

 

Ichigo looks up, blinking like he wasn’t expecting him, then smiles, bright and easy.

 

“Urahara-san,” he says, taking a step forward, then another, and then, Kisuke is surrounded by the smell of roses and cinnamon.

 

Ichigo is hugging him, and after a moment, Kisuke lets himself hug back, gentle and awkward and so, _ so  _ relieved.

 

“You idiot,” he mutters into Ichigo’s ear, another knot in his stomach unravelling. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? A whole year I was working on getting your powers back, and then you up and disappeared.”

 

“I know,” Ichigo says, pulling back. “But it was necessary.”

 

“Why?”

 

Ichigo sighs.

 

“Well, it wasn’t, I suppose,” he admits after a moment. “But I wanted to see who I could trust.”

 

Well, that makes exactly zero sense.

 

“Care to explain your logic?”

 

Ichigo cracks a grin.

 

“It would take a lot of explaining,” he admits. “And we _ simply  _ don’t have the time. What I can say, though, is that I made very poor choices in friends. Ishida hasn’t recognized me once in all the meetings I’ve had since opening this place, and the others stopped looking for me after, what? A month?”

 

“... I said I’d handle it,” Kisuke says uncertainly. “I told them not to worry.”

 

Ichigo folds his arms in front of his chest, arching a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

 

“And if it were me you said some bullshit like that to, what would be my response?”

 

… He’d keep looking anyway, of course.

 

“On the bright side,” Ichigo says, giving him a little smile. “You did look for me, and you found me, too— albeit by accident.”

 

“In the last place I would’ve looked,” Kisuke agrees weakly.

 

Ichigo’s smile widens. “That was exactly the point.”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“I’d appreciate if you kept my whereabouts to yourself,” Ichigo says after a moment. “I won’t be able to work with the others pestering me all the time. Mizuiro’s been pretty good about it, so far, but if you slip up...”

 

“What about me makes you think I’d slip a secret without meaning to?” Kisuke asks, frowning at him.

 

“I don’t care if you mean to or not. I want you to keep your mouth shut.” Ichigo gives him a hard look. “Can you promise me you’ll stay quiet about this?”

 

Kisuke feels a shiver run down his spine at the look Ichigo gives him. He bows his head.

 

“Of course, Kurosaki-san.”

 

All at once, Ichigo’s all smiles again.

 

“In which case, you’re more than welcome to come over for tea tomorrow,” he says, turning away. “The girls will collect you once they wake up?”

 

“Only if I get to wear my normal clothes,” Kisuke says, looking down. “This… is not comfortable.”

 

Ichigo laughs, loud and easy like Kisuke’s never heard before.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I think we can manage that.”

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a lot of stuff about drag I didn’t get close to touching just because I wanted to finish last night, but I may or may not be planning the non-pairing prelude that leads up to this fic, so here’s hoping I don’t roll over and die over the next few weeks!
> 
> Ichigo’s accent that he uses on stage is reminiscent of Dorian Corey, if you want to look them up for context. Venus is named after the beautiful Venus Extravaganza, a drag queen from eighties NYC. You can hear her interviews (and Dorian Corey’s) if you watch ‘Paris is Burning’, and excellent film on Netflix about the NYC drag scene.
> 
> While lipsyncing and voguing are pretty self-explanatory, I feel like I should explain ‘realness’. Basically, that category was where you showed off how well you could blend in with the mainstream, whether it was as your female alter ego or simply as a straight man. At the time, it was a very necessary category.
> 
> Regarding pronouns: Most queens that I’ve met will use pronouns interchangeably, but almost always use the female pronoun when performing. To make it easier on myself, I used only she/her pronouns for the queens, if only because they typically present themselves as feminine throughout this particular fic. Ichigo gets they/them pronouns while performing because he actively goes for the androgynous look, and he/him pronouns when Kisuke recognizes him.


End file.
